


I Will Never Leave You (Again)

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Gen, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-31
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 08:24:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5861452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Young squire. We did all we could." Angus breaks. Sequel to "Alone."</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Will Never Leave You (Again)

_I Will Never Leave You (Again)_

 

“You should forgive him, young squire.”

Angus turned and found Dr. Guthrie standing beside him as he looked over his patient’s chart. The young resident inwardly sighed, knowing well that this was a conversation he was going to have with the older doctor someday. The African American was staring at him pensively, and appeared patient as Angus turned and asked why he should forgive the person known as _him_.

“He is your knight,” Dr. Guthrie replied as he stared into the resident’s storming blue eyes. “You defend him and he defends you from the perils you face here every day.” For a moment, a brief amusement appeared across the older doctor’s face as Angus looked at him in confusion. “I speak in riddles, young squire, but your knight does need you.”

“And why,” Angus said almost sarcastically, “is _he_ my knight?”

Dr. Guthrie paused for a moment as the older doctor heard the well-worn anger in the resident’s voice. “Dr. Savetti defended you from your father, telling him that he had never met such a talented and worthy doctor.” Angus stiffened, remembering that day well. His father had come from his office and had decided to see if his younger son was truly the doctor that he was said to be. The humiliation and scorn still burned a wound in Angus’ heart, and his father’s smug eyes as he counted every real or imagined mistake made the young resident feel as if he was a child again, always in his brother’s – the golden child’s – shadow. It was enough that Angus wanted to run away, and hide as if he was still five years old and crying from his father’s bullying words. It had stunned Angus when Mario had suddenly approached his father and told him to back off. _“This man here...is the greatest doctor I have yet to meet. He is talented, and worthy of the M.D. after his name, more than you ever will!”_

The entire ER had heard Mario’s shouted words, the doctors, including Dr. Rorish, standing still as the dark-haired resident continued to glare at Angus’ father. He shouldn’t have been surprised when Mario was forced to work in the waiting room – the hell that all residents agreed on. Angus still remembered of how a strange smirk had echoed across Dr. Rorish’s features, and of how Dr. Hudson appeared almost proud as he stared at the back of Mario Savetti, who had glared at Angus’ father one more time before clasping Angus’ shoulder and going into the waiting room.

The memory of that day – before Heather – made Angus swallow, Although he had not admitted it, beyond the anger in his gaze, he had seen of how their loss in friendship had affected Mario. The resident appeared tired, his face wan despite his confession of loving the California sun when he and Angus had spent drinking a beer after a shift. His exhausted eyes and the dark circles and the shaking hands that normally didn’t appear echoed in Angus’ mind whenever he was _not_ angry with Mario. Did he regret his words? The residents had sided with him when he had found out about Mario and Heather almost having sex in the locker room. Mike was able to make Mario’s life a living hell, and Angus remembered feeling satisfaction at the thought of his older brother tormenting the dark-haired resident. Then, Dr. Rorish had demanded that they explain what was going on. At that point, Angus didn’t care. He only cared about the friendship that had been broken into tiny little pieces because of what Mario had done. Angus had been hurt, damaged, and he wasn’t willing to hear Mario’s excuses.

_“Fuck you.”_

The light brown-haired resident had been surprised to find that Mario was nowhere to be seen today, and worry surged inside him at the thought before Angus pushed it down. _What am I doing?_ he thought.

Angus bit his lip and turned to Dr. Guthrie.

“He should have thought of that before you decided to lie to me and sleep with a girl he knew I liked.” For a moment, Angus thought he saw disappointment in the older doctor’s eyes before he nodded and walked away.

* * *

 

“What have we got?” Dr. Rorish stated briskly as she and the other residents including Angus met with the paramedics. Angus noted with horror of how the paramedic was preforming CPR, sweat slightly shining on her brow as the other paramedic breathlessly explained the situation.

“There was an anonymous call for an overdose,” Dr. Rorish nodded, motioning Malaya to take over the CRP as the paramedic continued to explain, an unexplained dread settling in Angus’ stomach as the paramedic continued to speak breathlessly, his pupils blown out and his breathing ragged. “When we got there...we don’t know how long he was lying there. It’s been five minutes since we got the call, and...”

“Who is he?” Dr. Rorish asked, her eyes narrowing at the paramedic. _Something is wrong,_ Angus thought suddenly. _Very, very wrong._

Angus almost jumped out of his skin when he heard Malaya’s and Christa’s ragged gasps.

“It’s Mario!”

 _W_ _hat?_

Angus turned around, his heart stopping in his chest as he stared at Malaya frantically doing CPR...on Mario. The pale face echoed in Angus’ mind as he stared at the body of his friend. Mario was still, his entire body relaxed as Malaya continued to do compressions and as Christa called for the Center Stage. _This..._ Angus thought as he continued to see Mario eerily still on the gurney, with Dr. Rorish shouting for a bed. _This...cannot be happening. It –!_

“Mario’s a former addict,” Christa suddenly shouted over the chaos. Angus and Malaya were looking at her in shock. Dr. Rorish nodded, her face becoming grim as she motioned for the three residents to lift him.

“One.” _Oh My God,_ Angus thought. “Two.” Mario’s scrubs, already worn and wrinkled, had stains on them that Angus horrifyingly recognized as likely liquid recreational drug usage. “Three.”

 Mario was heavy. _Dead weight._ The thought echoed in Angus’ mind before he could banish it away. Mario’s right leg felt cool and still to the touch. _That has to be the longest three seconds in my life._

“Did Mario ever tell you how long he took drugs, and which ones?” Dr. Rorish asked Christa as she began taking over CPR.

“No,” Christa stated as Malaya shouted for naloxone and an IV. “He didn’t, but I’m guessing it’s heroin.”

“He certainly used for an extended time,” Dr. Rorish hissed as she attempted to break Mario’s skin. “His veins are shot.”

Angus continued to try to think of anything but of Mario lying still on the ER bed as the doctors were trying to _revive_ him. Even when Dr. Hudson arrived and managed to find a vein, Angus still couldn’t believe that Mario was lying there without any signs of life, Mario’s face was still as Dr. Rorish administered the naloxone, and yet Dr. Rorish continued to take over the CPR. The first year resident tried his hardest to breathe as the machine, attached to Mario, through the oxygen mask he had on, was still showing no vital signs.

 _Beep...beep... No, God no,_ Angus continued to think as the machine continued its mournful wailing. _No._ The resident thickly swallowed, shaking slightly as he remembered the brief memories he had made with Mario. The time they had “sword fought” after saving Mr. Gable, the patient with a metal rod that had almost killed him. The time they had a beer together, Mario actually laughed and joked with him as the alcohol started to take effect, his face unguarded and strangely happy as he suddenly began to sing a soft Italian song. The time when Mario had slung his hand over his shoulder. _“You miss me?”_

 _“I’m sorry.”_ Mario’s face echoed in Angus’ mind. How could he not see it? The broken, devastated look on Mario’s face as his former friend as the dark brown eyes – so dark almost black – tried to meet his own, an open, stunned mouth the only answer as Angus stated those words that were echoing in his mind now.

_“The greatest doctor I have yet to meet....”_

“Any objections?”

Angus’ heart became stone-cold when he heard Dr. Rorish asking that question. In his fogged mind, the resident could see Malaya shaking her head in sorrow and Dr. Hudson staying eerily still as he watched – the _patient_ on the ER bed. Christa was shaking her head as well, her soulful eyes portraying every emotion that her words could not. _No,_ Angus thought. _No._

“Then –”

Angus pushed Dr. Rorish roughly aside and began CPR. It seemed that the world had faded into this moment. Angus, doing CPR to Mario as the pale face of the friend below him echoed in his mind. The compresions became harder and harder as someone began to shout and try to break Angus from Mario. The resident wouldn’t move, his hands moving more and more desperately on the motionless chest as his breathing started to come in gasps.

“Come on, Mario!” Angus rasped. “Come on! You didn’t waste eight years of medical school and _me_ to...die like this!” It was becoming harder to breathe. The compresions were faint against his mind as he heard Dr. Rorish, Dr. Hudson, Malaya, and Christa – all shouting for him to _stop_. Mario’s face burned in Angus’ mind. The smiling and unguarded expression that Angus had inwardly hoped he would see more of. Of how the resident had apparent no knowledge of pop culture and thought he looked like Dustin Hoffman. Of...how...

“I didn’t even get to say anything to you yet!” Angus shouted as his compresions started to become shaky and his hands were breaking from the strain. “I didn’t even get to tell you –!”

“Young squire.”

Angus turned. The compresions stopped. His eyes wandered over to the machine. No signs of life. No respirations. No sound of vitals. The ultrasound someone had brought, with an image of a still heart. Not moving.

“Young squire.” Angus was aware of Dr. Guthrie then, taking him away from Mario and talking to him. “Angus.” The sound of his name didn’t register in his mind as Angus continued to stare at his friend. Mario looked so small, his scrubs stained with wrinkles as his face continued to stay still. His eyes were closed. And his hands... “Dr. Leighton.” Now Angus turned to the older doctor, seeing dull grief in the older doctor’s eyes as he spoke softly to him. The light brown haired resident noted of how the others’ expressions were the same. They were staring at him in shock, deep sadness in their eyes as Dr. Guthrie began to speak to Angus. “He is dead, Angus.” The older doctor’s voice was kind. “We did all we could.”

For some reason the words didn’t register in Angus’ mind. They echoed, resolutely finding no meaning until they finally did. Breath faded from his lungs. His heart...appeared to stop.

_No, no, nonono NO!_

Someone started screaming, wretched sobs echoing in the ER, the sound turning into a high wail, sounding like a wounded animal. It was a moment later that Angus realized that the sound came from him. His hands clutched Mario’s scrubs, sobs echoing through the fabric as tears stained the dark blue cloth until it was almost black. There was moaning and sobbing, Angus slightly rocking as he continued to tightly hold onto his friend.

 _He’s not dead._ Angus thought. _He’s not dead. Not. Dead. Not dead._

_Not dead. Notdeadnotdeadnotdead -  
_

He felt himself struggle as he was pulled away, desperately trying to reach for something, _anything_ that would prevent him from leaving Mario’s side. But he was pulled away. Angus was pulled away, farther and farther away from his knight as he couldn’t see. Soon he found himself in a chair, his eyes almost swollen shut as his throat screamed. Angus dully stared at the floor.

“I’m sorry.” The words had no meaning to him. Angus’ hands started to tremble, shaking as he remembered _Mario_ , lying there. He suddenly became aware of a hand on his back, and a dull surprise echoed in his mind when he saw that it was Heather Pinkney.

“I heard about what happened.” Heather’s voice was calm but measured. “And...I thought it would be best if I told you the truth.”

“The truth?” Angus rasped, his voice sounding so weak that he could barely hear it.

“Mario was actually the victim in all of this, Angus.” The resident stared dully at her. “He wasn’t the only guy I slept with, but he didn’t know. I usually only pick attendings and surgeons.”

“So...” Angus swallowed heavily and gasped, “why him? Why...pick –” He couldn’t even say his name. The name was choking him, but yet he couldn’t say it.

Heather only vaguely shrugged. “He was available.” A sad look appeared briefly on her face. “He was adorable, really. Always worried about what you would think, about your honor.” Angus swallowed heavily, almost choking as he tried to speak but couldn’t. He squeezed his eyes shut.

Heather’s voice continued despite trying to close his mind.

“He thought you were the best thing, Angus. That you could do no wrong, almost like he was _in love_.” Her voice quieted. “I just wanted you to know that, so that you know the truth that he really was a good friend.”

Her footsteps faded away. Angus heard her words in his broken mind. _“....the best thing....do no wrong...almost like he was_ in love _.”_

The image of Mario’s face as Angus stated those hated words flashed in Angus mind, and he almost didn’t make it to the bathroom before he threw up.

* * *

 

The funeral was a week later. Angus didn’t go to work. He didn’t get out of bed. He didn’t do anything. All he could think about was the fact that his friend – his _best_ friend – was dead. The flat line continued to haunt the resident, robbing him of whatever sleep he could get – finding himself waking to a cold sweat and rapid heartbeat, his breathing catching in his chest as he remembered Mario’s face as he said _“Fuck you.”_ The realization that Mario, who had been clean for six years, according to his file, had overdosed because of _him_ was enough for Angus to want to crawl into a ball and never leave the small dark space he came to know as his mind. He had cynically thought that he had cried all his tears during his miserable childhood, but Angus was wrong. The resident cried to sleep every night, one time collapsing into exhaustion on his floor. Mike had found him there, a raised eyebrow echoing across his face before he took Angus’ hand as if they were children again and lifted him up. The older brother almost dragged him to the shower and forced him to have something to eat.

Guilt. Normally Angus didn’t associate guilt with himself because he was the one who had to accept an apology or of something similar. Now it was eating him up. It was eating him up inside, as if tearing away his heart and body was enough to bring Mario back again. Did it really matter anymore that Mario had slept with Heather? Was _one single_ girl worth their friendship, and ultimately, Mario’s life? Angus had almost wanted to reach out and sob that he was sorry to whatever was left of Mario’s presence. _I’m sorry._ It was odd that he was saying the same words that Mario had said to him on that day. _I’m so sorry._

If only he could have said that back then.

The funeral was small. Only the residents and the two attendings with Jesse came to the very small gathering. Mario had never truly attached himself to people, and the only ones that truly cared about him were too late in saying that they did. Angus remembered of how the casket was lowered, the dirt collecting onto the wood until there was nothing but a fresh grave. The sight of the gravestone was enough for a sob to choke in Angus’ throat, but he managed to bite his lips to stop from screaming as the six individuals parted after saying selected words to the grave with the name of a young resident they had once known as Mario Savetti.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Christa whispered. The blond resident was wearing her in a ponytail, her eyes tired and grieved as she stared at the slowly shaking Angus. “It wasn’t your fault, Angus. It was all of us.” Her voice choked. “If we had....”

“It was me,” Angus whispered. His voice sounded foreign, delicate and small as if it belonged to a child. “It was....all me.” He tried to breathe. His voice faded, turning into a high whimper as tears, hot and thick and never ending, ran down his face. “He tried to apologize, you know...but I...I...”

“Mario...” Angus whispered. A choked howl tore from his throat as his face began to crumple. “My best...fr-friend...” He looked up toward the sky, and felt his tears trickle into his mouth, tasting bitter and full of grief. “And my loyal knight...”

Christa didn’t say anything. She only allowed Angus to find her shoulder as he leaned on her as he cried.

* * *

 

“I never got to say it, you know.” Angus paused and swallowed thickly as he laid down the flowers on Mario’s grave. Three months had passed since Mario had died from an overdose, and Angus was still struggling. There were still times when he woke in a cold sweat with Mario’s name on his lips, and times when the grief was still so strong that he had to remind himself to breathe. _Panic attacks,_ he thought. They had come soon after Mario’s death, and Angus found himself looking at his empathetic mentors as he told them that he would have to take a leave of absence. _  
“It’s too much,”_ he had explained to them hoarsely. _“It’s...still too much.”_ Dr. Rorish had explained to him soothingly that grief never had a timeline. _“Take as much time as you need, Angus.”_

Dr. Hudson had replied something similar, telling him that the heart was the most tender organ but also the strongest. _“Come back when you’re ready, but not before.”_ It had been Angus’ first day back in the ER, and it felt strange. He supposed that a small part of him would never forget the trauma of Mario’s death, and he remembered too well of how he had almost called for the resident when he had realized that Mario was no longer there. It happened less often now, but Angus could still see Mario everywhere he went. Every young man with dark hair and dark eyes with a slim build wearing faded clothing or something similar to the scrubs he wore on the day he died reminded Angus of the best friend he had lost.

He still couldn’t say Mario’s name. Angus began to treasure the small memories that he had made with his best friend, reminiscing as he sometimes did waiting for sleep that didn’t result in nightmares. His therapist often said that he should talk about Mario as much as he could, so that one day, he would be able to forgive himself. Angus wasn’t certain if he ever would. The resident stared at the dates marking Mario’s date of birth and death. The young man swallowed, clearing his throat as he stared at the flowers placed on Mario’s grave.

“I couldn’t...really say these words, so I thought I should say them now.” He paused and licked his lips, closing his eyes as familiar tears started to appear in his eyes. “You were...the most _human_ person I had and have ever known, and I want you to know that...” A gasp tore from Angus’ throat, and he clenched his hands until they turned into painful fists. “I want you to know that...I owe you so much. You taught me things that I would never know and my own, and I thought of you as the most... _brilliant_ person despite all of your flaws.” The tears were flowing freely now, staining the flowers and the gravel of the grave. “I know that there probably weren’t very many people who said these words to you, but I –I want to say them now.” Angus took a deep breath.

“I love you, Mario.” The wind stroked his hair, and Angus tried to imagine it as a sign that his best friend was listening to him.

“As a friend, as a colleague to an amazing doctor, and...as my loyal knight who died too young.” Angus sighed and softly smiled as tears ran down his face at the thought of Mario’s unguarded expression. “I will never leave you. Never will I leave you again, Mario.” Slowly, Angus began to sit down beside the grave and, without thinking, began to lightly touch the letters of Mario’s name. “I promise you.”

“I will...from now on...never let you go.” The wind began to stroke his cheek, and Angus titled his head back towards the sun. _Mario..._ he thought.

“My dear friend.”


End file.
